Who Am I?
by judybear236
Summary: What could be lovlier than a fall wedding in rural Connecticut? What could be deadlier than an early season blizzard? Will they ever find Erik? Who will play the hero? Will it be Gustave? Or someone ...else?
1. Chapter 1

**(I'm still learning how all this stuff works)**

**I don't own Christine or Erik or any of the characters from Love Never Dies.**

**But I need to hugely thank DonJuana19 for all her help in proofreading and helping me to navigate this site! THANK YOU!**

**This story takes place about 14 years after the end of Love Never Dies, except that Christine doesn't actually die. Christine and Erik go on to have a set of twins and one more son and continue with their growing successes at Phantasma.**

**Who Am I?**

Chapter 1

The late fall weather was perfect. The October sun was bright and warm but the wind off the ocean was sometimes bitingly cold. The leaves on the trees had turned their brilliant golds and reds and had carpeted the lanes with their paintbrush colors. Squirrels scurried everywhere in a frantic rush to store away their winter larder of the abundant nuts to be found in the late New England forests. Christine was bundled into the back of their one horse buggy, wrapped in furs and blankets against the fall chill. Erik was wrapped in a heavy fur coat with a thick wool blanket across his knees and a leather and fur cap on his head. He'd even taken the precaution of wearing a woolen vest that Christine had bought for him in one of the near-by towns. Not only was it wool, but it buttoned up almost to his neck and helped to keep out the bitter wind. He was sitting up front on the driver's bench, trying to urge the horse into a swifter trot. He had an odd feeling of foreboding about this weather. It seemed so unsettled.

The wedding had been splendid. Their long-time friends, now the new Mr. and Mrs. Robert Chandler, had decided to have their nuptials and reception take place on his grandfather's farm in Connecticut. The weather there had been perfect and the house was easily large enough to host many of the guests for several days. So they had been pressed to stay an extra night before heading back to Coney Island. Erik didn't want to stay away from Phantasma for so long – who knows what sort of trouble the park could sustain in his absence. But their hosts and Christine had assured him that one more night wouldn't hurt and that they'd be more rested for the long journey home. So it was a bright Tuesday morning before they set out, armed with a large hamper of freshly picked apples and grapes, bottles of wine and apple cider, smoked ham, fried chicken, a blackberry pie, several blocks of cheese and loaves of freshly baked bread. They would find some nice place to stop and picnic each day along their route, stopping for the night at an inn they had used on their way north.

They hadn't been on the road for more than a couple of hours after their picnic lunch before the sky grew dark and the wind began to pick up and turn colder, peppered by an occasional blast of sleet. Christine called out to Erik, but her words were swept away by the wind. "Erik!" She carefully came forward and had to clutch him by the shoulders to keep her balance. "Erik! I think we should find a place to put in until this passes," she called above the wind.

Erik shook his head, "We need to get back. It isn't much farther to that inn. We can stay there and by morning be on our way again." He gave her a brief look of concern and stretched up to kiss her cheek before turning his attention back to the horse and the road, "You need to go back and sit down. I don't want you getting thrown out of the buggy!" What he hadn't told her was that the sleety rain that was starting to fall was beginning to coat the road with an icy film. It was still another hour before they would reach the inn, on good roads. He just hoped this horse was sure-footed enough to negotiate this sort of terrain. Yet, they were still making fairly good time, considering the weather.

Despite the weather, Erik was taken by the beautiful vistas he could see along their way during breaks in the storm. Just now he was admiring a neat little village nestled into some hills off in the distance when the buggy suddenly lurched. He could see the horse had lost his footing and was falling. He shouted to Christine, "Hang on! I think we're going over!" His next sensation was of flying through the air and a sudden painful snap in his right shoulder, then nothing.

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	2. Chapter 2

Who Am I? Chapter 2

Christine

Christine felt the buggy begin to turn over and clutched at the braces inside the canopy as the buggy rolled several times before coming to rest against a tree. She heard the horse screaming in fear but soon felt his warm breath on her face as he nudged her with his nose. She carefully extricated herself from the buggy and looked around for Erik… "Erik!" she called, but it was to no avail as the wind whipped her words right out of her mouth. She tried calling louder, "E-RIICK!" but all she could hear was the howling of the wind and the chuffing of the horse. As snow began to fall and her footing became more slippery, she decided that maybe she'd be able to see better from the horse's back, and climbed up. The horse took this as a signal to head for home and, over her protests, carried her off to the inn.

"Madam! What are you thinking out in this weather?!" The innkeeper cried when he saw her come staggering inside, dripping water and slush across the floor.

"Erik!" she gasped. "Erik! He's hurt!"

The innkeeper's wife came running with blankets and hot soup. "William! We need more wood for the fire! Henry and John! Get your cloaks on and see if you can't find this woman's husband!" She then turned to Christine, "Now, let's get you warm and dry before you catch your death!"

"Who's Erik and where is he?" asked the innkeeper. He looked back at her before exclaiming, "Hey! I remember you! Aren't you the folks who came through here a few days ago? On your way to a wedding, wasn't it? Somewhere north of here?"

"He… he's.. Uh… about… ba-ck th-that w-way," Christine tried to say but she was shivering so badly the words just wouldn't form.

Henry came running in from the stable saying, "The horse has a broken buggy harness on him. They must have been riding in a buggy!"

"Where were you coming from, Honey?" asked the innkeeper's wife.

"Con-n-n- ec – t," Christine struggled to say.

"Connecticut?" asked the innkeeper and exchanged worried glances with his wife. Christine nodded. "That's north of here! Don't you worry, Ma'am. We'll find him." And with that he and Henry were out the door.

"Come on and sit closer to the fire," said the innkeeper's wife as she settled Christine into an easy chair nearest to the large walk-in hearth and all but smothered her in warm blankets. She handed her a bowl of steaming soup before stooping down to take off Christine's wet shoes and stockings. "We'll get you nice and toasty in no time," she smiled reassuringly.

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	3. Chapter 3

Who Am I? Chapter 3

Erik

Cold. Very, very cold. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't focus on anything. He turned his head and screamed, which only made his head hurt more. He tried to move but was met by excruciating pain, both in his left side and his right shoulder. And his head was throbbing. He gingerly brought his left hand up to his face and got a mouthful of…snow? He brushed the stuff off of his face and discovered that he could now see, vaguely. It was dark. But where was he? How did he get here? He seemed to be in a forest, in a snowstorm? OK. He was in pain and in a snowstorm. And cold. He needed to find shelter. Pain or no pain, he had to get up. He gritted his teeth and rolled onto his left side and screamed before rolling onto his stomach. After catching his breath, he used his left arm to get himself up onto his knees. When the fog of his pain cleared, he looked around and could make out a dim light moving irregularly in the distance. Light meant people. People might mean help. Might. He had no choice. Sitting back on his heels, he ran his left hand across the bones of his right shoulder and upper chest, pretty sure he'd broken his collar bone. It would need to be immobilized. He pulled his right arm inside of his coat and unbuttoned the lower part of his vest. He then fashioned a sling with it by wrapping the loose lower portion under and around his arm and then buttoning the lower button holes to the top buttons. But as he worked at this, he could feel something wet oozing down over his left eye. Reaching up to his throbbing head, his hand came away with something wet and sticky - blood. [_Great]._ He dug out his handkerchief, dipped it into the snow and gingerly pressed it to his forehead to stanch the blood. Getting to his feet, he pulled his coat around his body once again and began to stumble toward the distant light. This was becoming more and more difficult because the deepening snow was covering obstacles that he needed to avoid, and it was deepening fast. Each time he tripped he swore and hissed through his teeth as he caught himself. Finally he fell and couldn't help but to scream out in pain. He couldn't see it, but the distant light stopped moving for a time before drawing closer.

After awhile he heard voices, "Over here! I told ya I heard something!" "Hello!" said another voice. He opened his eyes to a bright light that made his head hurt more and saw the silhouettes of two men looking down at him with concern.

"Boy! He looks banged up," said the first voice.

"Where'd you come from?" asked the second. Erik looked from one to the other in confusion before passing out.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The dogs were barking like crazy.

Mary peeked out the window but couldn't see anything amiss. "I'll go," said Amos, her husband.

"Be careful out there. It's nasty weather," she cautioned.

He strapped on his snowshoes and added some steel climbing spikes to his boots before leaving. Reaching the road, he looked both ways, trying to decide which way to go. South. No reason; had to be north or south, so it would be south. After hiking almost a mile in 18 to 20 inches of blowing snow, he came across what looked like it might have once been a small carriage or buggy poking out of the still deepening snow drifts. He investigated the area but could find no tracks or evidence of anyone who might have been injured, not even a horse. "I guess whoever it was must have taken the horse and left?" he mused. "Wait, what's this?" He pulled what looked like a large covered basket out of the snow and opened it to find a small supply of bread and wine and other provisions. "Well, what do you know?"

On the way back he could see that the snow had already covered his tracks from home. It was going to be a long night.

The dogs began barking excitedly again as Amos got back to the house. "Look at what I found out there!" he exclaimed, opening the basket for Mary to see its contents. "There's what looks like might be a small buggy out near the road. Looks like it was an accident. I did try lifting it up a little, but didn't see anyone underneath it. But the snow's got quite deep and who knows what or who might be under it."

"Well, no sense letting these fine victuals go to waste. We can put them in the larder for tomorrow, just in case someone comes back for them. I don't know about the pie though, that's pretty much a mess."

"Aw, Mary, couldn't we just try some of the wine? And the bread and cheese? It's been so long since we've had nice stuff like this. You know, just to make sure it's still fresh?"

"And what if they come back? How're we gonna explain the missing food?"

"We could say that wild animals ate it?" He suggested hopefully.

"And left the basket intact? And opened the wine bottles? Well, we can clean up the pie and fruit tomorrow. No sense letting it spoil."

"I'll go tomorrow with the team and bring back the buggy, or what's left of it; see if I can't fix it up. They're sure to be back for that. Jerome can come along to help."

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	5. Chapter 5

Who Am I? Chapter 5

Christine

"Good Morning, Ma'am!" greeted the innkeeper's wife cheerily. "Did you sleep well?"

Christine hardly remembered the previous evening. She'd arrived at the inn and after she had stopped shivering the innkeeper's wife had given her a room that was close to the central fireplace so it would be warm and tucked her in for the night. But Christine couldn't sleep… well, not after the initial three hours that she'd slept out of pure exhaustion. She'd gotten up to look out the window and was horrified to see how much snow had fallen. If Erik - NO! Erik WAS out there, somewhere…maybe injured, how would he ever survive? She had to find him! She heard the clock in the gathering room chime three times…3 AM. It would be at least three more hours until first light. But what then? How could they ever hope to find anything in all this snow? And where was Erik? She must have fallen asleep after that because the next thing she knew the innkeeper's wife was tapping at her door.

She was suddenly aware that the innkeeper's wife had asked her something.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked.

"Poor thing. You must be sick with worry. Well, I'm afraid it looks like you're stuck here for awhile. My name's Martha, Matty for short. Can I get you some breakfast? Some coffee? And I just made some nice oat muffins this morning!"

"Oh!" was about all Christine could manage at first. "I'm so sorry… my name is Christine. And I want to thank you for all you did for me last evening. I'm really sorry for all the trouble I caused. Umm.. pleased to meet you," she added looking out the window where the snow continued to fall.

"I've sent Henry and John out to see if they can't at least find your buggy and bring back whatever possessions might still be there. And to search for Erik. Did you have much luggage?"

"Uh… no, not much," she replied distractedly.

"Well, if we don't find your things, you can use some of my daughter's old clothes, just as a temporary measure, if you don't mind a little homespun?"

"Of course. That would be nice," she replied, not really sure what she was replying to.

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	6. Chapter 6

Who Am I? Chapter 6

Erik

No matter what, where or how Erik moved seemed to cause another wave of pain. Even breathing hurt… _Must have broken a rib,_ he thought. And his eye was all but swollen shut on the left side. Pain shot through his right shoulder and arm and neck whenever he even slightly moved his right arm. But he was no longer cold. That was good. However, keeping still was not an option. He had to find … something… or someone.

He reached up to his head and found a soft pack of something cold covering his forehead and his left eye. Another was on his right shoulder. He jumped and hissed when he felt something very cold pressed against his left side.

"Well, good morning!" came a male voice that he remembered from the previous evening. "How are you feeling?"

Erik tried to sit up but immediately discovered that that was not possible as another wave of pain tore through his left side and right shoulder.

"Have to… go… find…," he mumbled through his teeth.

A female voice replied, "YOU are going NOWHERE, at least not for now. We've got almost two feet of new snow out there and it's still falling." She stooped next to the bed and placed a fresh cold pack on his forehead. "Hi. My name is Hannah. How are you feeling?"

He looked at her and around the room as best he could from his position. "Hello, Hannah. Where am I?" he asked weakly.

"You're on our farm. My husband and oldest son found you out in the woods last evening. What happened to you?"

He looked around the room again before answering hesitantly, "I woke up… in the forest, and it was snowing. I saw a light and I… followed it."

"That must have been our lantern he saw and was following us on our way home," surmised a young man standing nearby. "Hi! I'm Samuel!"

A long pause ensued as Erik looked from one to the other, "Hannah is my mother," Samuel continued.

"What's your name?" she asked gently but firmly.

Erik looked back at her, puzzled by the question. "I, uh… my name is…uh…I don't think I know?"

"Well, it's probably just shock. You get some rest. Are you hungry? I have some venison soup on the stove," she offered.

"Venison?" he asked puzzled.

She smiled gently, "Deer meat. Have you never had venison before?"

"I don't think so, Madame, but I may just not remember?" he said with a smirk.

"Well, you probably shouldn't have anything more than the broth right now. I'll dish some up for you."

"Merci."

Hannah stopped and turned around. He might not remember who he was but he had the most beautifully haunting voice, deep and resonant, like liquid chocolate she'd had once. "Are you French? Is that the accent I detect?"

"I don't really know…"

"Well, never mind," she said as she sat next to his bed with a bowl of the broth and a spoon. "This should help you feel stronger." She trickled the soup into his mouth so that he hardly needed to swallow as it ran down the back of his throat. After only three spoonfuls his eyes were fluttering shut. Hannah gently wiped his chin and throat before taking the bowl to the sink to wash it out.

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	7. Chapter 7

Who Am I? Chapter 7

Gustave was nervously pacing the length and width of his father's office in Phantasma.

"Will you please sit down, Gus?" a girl 11 years younger than him chided. "Wearing out the carpet will not bring them home any faster." Gustave was now 24 and looked stunningly like his father; over six feet tall and built like an athlete. But where his father's hair had once been a rich black, his hair was closer to a sandy brown. Now that he was back from overseas, he was well equipped to run Phantasma in his father's absence, at least for the few days his parents had thought they'd be gone. But it had been over a week now and there'd been no word from them.

"I know that!" he stormed, tensing and relaxing his jaw muscles. _He's so much like father,_ Emilie thought, _short tempered and ready to take action._

"And the way the snow has been falling, there is nothing we can do but wait," she soothed. Emilie was more like their mother, with her soothing voice and sensibilities, unlike her bubbly twin sister, Angelique.

The other girl came running into the room excitedly. "Come ON!" she called. "We're going to build a snowman!" Though the girls' facial features and body structure were identical, their coloring was vastly different. While Emilie had the same dark hair as her father, Angelique's hair was golden, almost the color of ripened wheat. Their voices were also different. Angelique's was a high, bell-like soprano, while Emilie's was a throaty, buttery alto. Add to that Gustave's sweet tenor, their father's rich bari-tenor and their mother's lofty soprano and the family had the makings of a fine choral ensemble.

"What do you mean "WE"?" asked Emilie. "Can't you see how it's snowing out?"

"Exactly!" chirped Angelique. "It hardly ever snows this much here! Come on! Auntie Meg and Peter are waiting!"

"And what about Benjamin?" asked Gustave. "I hope you don't expect me to watch him?"

"Oh, Gussy-boy! You're such a worrier! He's coming too!" Angelique teased.

Gustave turned pink at the mention of her pet name for him. "I've told you not to call me that!"

"Gussy, Gussy, Gussy!" she teased as he began to chase her around the office and then down the hall.

"Just wait'll I get my hands on you…"

She giggled as she ran out into the snow. "Catch me if you can!"

Gustave stalked back to the office and looked at Emilie "Well? I need some moral support here. Get your coat!" Soon all thoughts of building a snowman were abandoned as an all out snowball fight ensued with Angelique, Meg and Peter on one side and Emilie, Gustave and 7-year-old Benjamin on the other side. (And Benjamin turned out to be quite the marksman!)

Madame Giry let out a yelp as she got hit with two snowballs at the same time, fore and aft. She had stepped outside to see what all the commotion was. "Oops!" said Peter and Benjamin together, as she brushed off the snow and the raucous activity came to a sudden halt.

"Sorry, Mother," chimed in Meg, dipping her head in submission. "We were just, uh…"

"Burning off some tension," offered Gustave.

"Well, come on inside and get out of those wet clothes and I'll make some hot chocolate for everyone."

"Yay!" squealed Benjamin, and raced up to give Mme. Giry a snowy hug.

Gustave gave her a questioning look as he entered the house. "Any word?" he asked softly.

She shook her head sadly. "The roads are impassable twenty miles north of here with three feet of snow and trees down everywhere. It could be another week before anyone can get through – providing it doesn't snow again," she added and headed for the kitchen.

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	8. Chapter 8

Who Am I? Chapter 8

Christine

"Anything I can help with?" asked Christine, entering the large kitchen of the inn. She was hardly recognizable, dressed in a woolen skirt and homespun blouse, with a hopsacking apron tied around her waist and her chocolate curls tied back and pinned up off of her neck.

Matty looked up in surprise. "Well, I must say… Sarah – that's my daughter – never looked near that good in those old clothes; makes me ashamed to have nothing better to offer you."

Christine blushed. "I've worn worse," she said with a smile. "Now, what can I do to help pay my keep?"

"Well-," Matty hesitated, looking at Christine's delicate fingers. "There's really nothing…"

"Oh, please?" she cut in, "I really need something to keep me busy. All this sitting around, and worrying…" The sorrow and pleading in her eyes tugged at Matty's heart and convinced her to try something.

"Don't suppose you know how to milk and feed a goat? Gather eggs and feed chickens?"

A hesitant smile slowly spread across Christine's face. "I did once. It's been many years, since I was a little girl on my grandfather's farm, very long ago. In Sweden."

"Well I'll be!" exclaimed Matty. "Come on. I'll get you started. With the men gone I need all the help I can get." It wasn't long before haunting melodies were floating up from the barn. Matty paused in her chores to listen, _That girl sings like an angel!_ she thought, _but a very sad one._

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	9. Chapter 9

Who Am I? Chapter 9

The horses' traces were securely hooked to the buggy and Amos and his twelve-year-old son, Jerome, were in the process of trying to shovel snow away from it with their feed scoops in order to lighten the load.

"Hello, there!" called a voice from down the road. They looked up to see two of the men from the inn come gliding toward them on skis, snowshoes strapped to their backs.

"John! What on earth are you doing out on a day like this?"

"I could ask the same of you. Is this their buggy?" John gestured to the wreckage his neighbors were trying to extricate from the snow.

"You know anything about this?" Amos asked cautiously over the wind.

"Actually, yes. The woman made it to our place with the horse," shouted John, straining to be heard above the wind. "Is her husband here?"

"Ain't seen nobody. The dogs about drove us crazy yesterday afternoon but this is all we found." Jerome nodded in agreement. "You say you have the horse?"

"Here, let me help with that," called Henry as he turned to help Jerome with the shoveling while the older men talked.

"The woman showed up yesterday at the height of the storm with the horse. Said she couldn't find her husband… Erik. I think she said. Matty got her dried off and put her to bed."

"Well, if she had the horse, then he was throwed clear or is on foot," suggested Amos. "But I didn't see anyone north of here along the road!"

"And we didn't see anyone between here and the inn!" They both looked off into the woods as John pulled the collar of his heavy coat closer around his neck. He called to the younger men, "Boys! Leave that for now. We need to look for her husband! Let's start searching the woods and hope he isn't under all this snow somewhere!" John and Henry had removed their skis when they arrived. Now they unslung their own snowshoes and donned them before heading into the woods.

The four set out, an arm's length apart, combing the woods close to the road and working their way out. It wasn't long before Henry shouted, "Over here! I found something!" He pointed to a smudge of blood on the side of a small tree, well downhill from the wrecked carriage. .

Digging in the snow around the tree, Jerome came up with what looked like pieces of a warped porcelain plate. "What do you make of this, Papa?" he asked, handing the irregular pieces to his father. They passed the pieces around, everyone shaking their heads.

"Looks like scrap from someone trying to make plates," quipped Henry.

Jerome shrugged his shoulders before stuffing the pieces into a pocket. He looked at something John was holding. "What's that?"

"Guys, it looks like her husband was here," as he showed them the bloody handkerchief. "But where did he go?"

"Over here!" called Henry from about 40 feet farther away from the road. Once the others had stumbled through the deep snow to reach him, they found he was looking through a very soggy leather gentleman's wallet.

Amos looked around, puzzled. "What was he doing over here?"

John took out a large knife and cut a blaze in the bark of the tree closest to where his son had found the wallet and another on the tree with the blood smudge and where the handkerchief had been found. "Maybe tomorrow this infernal storm will die down so we can continue the search!"

"Let's get back and dig out the buggy! Maybe we'll find some of their stuff you can take back to the inn with you!" shouted Amos. "Better yet, help us get the buggy back to the house, and Mary can fix us all something to eat and warm you up. Then you can take the team home with you and bring them back in the morning! That way you don't got to carry their stuff through the snow on foot!"

"Yeah. I like that plan," shouted John. "Let's do it!"

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	10. Chapter 10

**Who Am I?** Chapter 10

Erik

_The boat was tossing and rolling on the waves. Erik tried to steady himself. But one hand was tied to something, and a blindfold covered his eyes. He wanted to take it off but he dare not let go of the boat. He heard someone calling out, "Erik!" Were they calling him? And then the most beautiful girl he could ever imagine spoke the name again and reached out for his hand. He let go of the boat and reached for her… _and landed on the floor with a thud. He was flooded with pain and he heard someone scream.

Hands were helping him to sit up against the bed and he looked around at the small bedroom of the farm, dazed. Erik looked down at the sling holding his right arm and the tight bandaging wrapped around his ribs. He reached up and felt the bandage over his left forehead, remembering. A boy of about 14 was looking at him worriedly, "What are you trying to do, Mister? You OK?" When Erik finally nodded he said, "Good. Let's get you back up in bed…" and he helped Erik to stand up before sitting him on the edge of the bed.

"Merci, Monsieur …" He stopped when he saw the youth's face. He had a Port Wine Stain that covered most of the right side of it.

"You got a problem, Mister?" the youth inquired challengingly.

"No.. I uh..." and he reached up to touch the right side of his own face, startled to find the irregular texture of his skin before looking at the young man again. "You are… I mean you…"

"Yeah. I have the same problem as you do. I'm a freak."

Erik chose to ignore the last remark. "I think my name is Erik."

"Mine's Samuel. Never seen anyone else that looked like this," as they continued to stare at each other.

"Me neither, at least I don't think I have. Is yours a burn scar or were you born with it?"

"Born with it. They call it a Port Wine Stain … among other things."

Erik scowled and his face darkened as memories came flooding back associated with what he had been called and subjected to. "Mask. My mask. Where is it? Do you wear one?"

"You wear a mask over your face? People let you do that?"

"Since I was a child; I was forced to do so, so I wouldn't scare people unintentionally, or repulse them. Unless my master intended me to be exposed in order to make money off of people, displaying me as a side-show freak." He spat out the last words and scowled at the memories. He then looked up at the startled face of the young man who was now staring at the many scars visible beyond the bandages on Erik's torso.

"Is that how…?" he began, but Erik cut him off, his eyes slowly brightening with an idea.

"Do you have any heavy leather around here? I mean the kind that's used for saddles or heavy aprons?"

"Out in the workshop. We make harnesses and once in awhile a saddle. Why?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but with some help, I might be able to fashion a mask for each of us out of the leather. But the leather has to be thick. Think you can get us some? I can pay for it. I have money in my wallet – in my morning coat."

"Oh," said Samuel dejectedly. "We went through your pockets, looking for some sort of identification," Samuel hurried to explain, "but there wasn't anything like that."

"Hmm; must've dropped it somewhere along the way here. I could write an IOU," he added hopefully.

"But if you don't know who you are or where you're from?"

"You have a point. And the snow's too deep to go looking for a wallet."

Erik began to sway and put his hand up to his head. "I think…"

"Yeah, I think you'd better lay back down, Mister, before you fall again." And he helped Erik to lie back against some pillows he'd gathered.

"Thank you. We'll figure something out."

Just then the door opened and Hannah entered, carrying a small pot of tea and a bowl of soup. She looked from her son to Erik and back again. "Well, I see you two have met. How is our patient today?"

"Good!" smiled Erik, albeit weakly.

"He was sitting up!" declared Samuel.

"I sort of fell out of bed and Samuel here helped me back up. By the way, I think my name is Erik."

"Pleased to meet you, Erik. I brought you some tea that should help you to feel better and some more soup. Sam? Do you have some chores to do?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said to his mother before turning to Erik. "Maybe we can talk more later?'

"I'd like that," he replied with a sigh and a quiet smile.

As Samuel left, Hannah poured some of the tea into a cup and sat down next to the bed. Raising the cup to Erik's lips, she said, "Let's see how much of this you can drink this time. It's what I've been giving you after you passed out."

He sniffed at it and made a face. "What's in it?"

"You don't want to know, but I've never had any complaints." She smiled, then went on encouragingly, "I give it to folks when they've had bad falls and broken bones." When he hesitated she added, "A little of this and a little of that." After another few moments of him scowling at the cup she asked, "If I tell you will you drink it?"

"Maybe. Depends," he said with a faint smirk.

"Don't you play games with me, Mr. Erik." She sighed. "OK. There is Peppermint, Milfoil, Rhus toxicodendron and St. Johnswort. Now, you happy?"

He sniffed at it again. "Rhus toxic what? I know what 'toxic' means – poison!"

"Yes, that's what it's called, 'Poison Ivy', but it is very good as a tea for healing injuries like muscle and sinew tears. I've been giving you this since you came here. Are you dead yet?"

"No," he replied grudgingly.

"Then drink up. You're getting it now or later."

"Uh-huh…" And he sipped at it, "Its sweet!"

"Well, a little bit of honey to make it more palatable." Now it was her turn to smirk. She lifted the cup to his lips once more and he drank more of the tea until the cup was half drained. "There! Very good! Now, do you want some soup or would you rather rest first?"

Erik's eyes were drooping and threatening to close. He smiled softly and said, "Sleep, please," before drifting off.

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	11. Chapter 11

Who Am I? Chapter 11

Gustave

"Enough of this sitting here and doing NOTHING!" Gustave fumed, "The crews clearing the roads have only made 6 miles in two days! At that rate they won't get to Connecticut until summer!" He began going from room to room, gathering and packing things he wanted to take with him, the twins following him.

"But what if you get lost too?" Emilie pleaded.

"Then where will we be?" Angelique finished.

"I won't get lost. I'll take Gambler; Father's Tennessee Walker has legs that are long enough for him to comfortably get through four feet of snow or more."

"But you've never ridden him," cautioned Angelique.

"He won't let anyone but Father ride him," added Emilie.

"What's this?" as Mme. Giry burst into the office where Gustave was doing the actual packing. "So it's true? You're going with the search party? You're mad to try this! Send someone else. If anything happens to you, Erik will kill me!"

"I cannot just sit idly by while Mother and Father might be lost or trapped somewhere in all this snow! And Gambler will know why we are going. He will cause me no trouble."

"Do you think you're the only one who is anxious about them? What makes you think WE don't want to do the same thing?" pressed Emilie.

"Why should you be the only one to go?" pleaded Angelique.

"Because, Dear Sister," replied Gustave, first to one sister and then the other, "I am the oldest and I have the longest legs for walking through the deep snow; and I am the strongest should anything, or any ONE need to be lifted; and, Dear Little Sister, because we only have one horse tall enough to get through the snow drifts."

"He's right, Child," said Mme. Giry defeatedly. "If anyone goes, it has to be Gustave." She looked up at him, "Do be careful. Don't do anything foolish."

Angelique gave him a big squeeze, followed by Benjamin and Emilie. "Good-bye!" "We'll miss you!"

In the office Gustave had packed a warm change of clothing for each of his parents and another for himself, his father's gun, a heavy blanket and waterproofed oilskin. He rolled this into a tight bundle and tied it securely. Then went to the kitchen and took some cooked beef and chicken from recent meals, several baguettes, some cheese and a bottle of brandy, all of which he packed into a cloth sack he had lined with wool and newspapers. He filled two canteens with water before taking it all out to the stable. There he took down his skis and snowshoes, an axe, and a sack of oats and stuffed what he could into saddlebags and tied all the rest onto Gambler's saddle. Gambler shied away from him at first, but Gustave put on his best "Erik" face and told his father's horse that this was for Erik and that it had to be done. Erik's very life might depend on them. Gustave donned his heavy fur coat and a wool felt hat styled like those of western cowboys he had seen in a book and led Gambler out of the stable. Gambler shied again when Gustave tried to mount him, but Gustave looked him in the eye with calm determination and Gambler settled down and allowed Gustave to mount. He looked once more at his gathered family. "I'll bring them home. I promise." And with that he was off, Gambler kicking up a small snow storm behind them.

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	12. Chapter 12

Who Am I? Chapter 12

Christine stomped through the back kitchen door and placed one full milk pail and one empty one on the table. "Argh! That stupid cat!"

"My goodness! What's all this about?" asked Matty as she quickly poured the milk into glass jars and set them in the ice box.

"Well, the cat wanted some milk, but the goat didn't want him around her and got nervous and stepped into the milk pail, upturning it and sending milk everywhere. I'm soaked!" exclaimed Christine, tears in her eyes but for the moment distracted by displaying her milk-soaked clothing.

Matty was beginning to giggle, "That had to be George. He likes to get a squirt now and again," she explained, "but if he doesn't get it from the floor he tries to get up on the milking stand and that makes H'Abibti nervous."

"Well, I finished milking her into the clean pail and then milked the other doe into the same pail," she said in frustration, before rinsing out the milk pails at the sink pump. "Did you say her name was H'Abibti? What does that mean?"

"It means 'Beloved'. It's Arabic. I figured since I have Nubian goats, I should give them Arabic names. So they're H'Abibti and Sarah. Sarah means 'Wise'."

"Beloved?" _[My beloved!]_ she thought as the tears finally began to fall. She collapsed onto a chair, sobbing, as Matty came over to embrace her. "Oh, Sweetie, they'll find him. I know they will. You'll see. And he'll come walking in here as if nothing has happened and wondering what all the fuss has been about."

She looked up at Matty, "Are you sure you don't know him? That sounds so much like him."

Matty giggled, "Men. They're all alike."

A commotion out in the yard tore their attention away. They could hear men's voices above the barking of the dogs and whinnying of horses. "Matty?" She looked up, "John!"

John and Henry stomped into the kitchen carrying luggage, "I think this is yours, Ma'am?"

Christine wiped her eyes on her still damp apron and knelt down at the small trunk "Erik?" she asked softly, unwilling to look up at the men.

The men shook their heads, "Sorry, Ma'am. We met the blacksmith and his son out at the buggy and they helped us look for your husband. But it was snowing and blowing too hard to see much of anything. We dug out the buggy and hauled it to the blacksmith's place up the road a piece."

"We found these trunks and a basket of provisions." Henry chimed in.

"Hope you don't mind, but we gave the basket to the blacksmith," added his father. "He'll be fixing up the buggy and I felt it was the least we could offer him at the time."

John turned with his back to Christine and handed Matty the bloody handkerchief and quietly told her, "We found these at the base of a tree about twelve feet downhill from the buggy." He handed her the pieces of broken porcelain. "Don't know what this is, or was, but it was at the base of the tree as well, and there was a smear of blood on the tree…"

Christine had been sobbing lightly as she looked through the contents of the trunks, still neatly packed as they had been when they left the Chandlers'. But she screamed and rushed Matty and Henry when she saw the broken pieces of Erik's mask, grabbing them and holding them to her chest, "No! No! No…," as she trailed off sobbing and sank to the floor.

They all looked at her, stunned by her reaction to the broken pieces of pottery.

"Christine?" asked Matty, "What is it?"

"Erik's mask," she sobbed. "He never goes anywhere without it! Never!"

"Maybe he dropped it?" offered Henry.

"No!," shouted the sobbing woman, "Never!"

They looked at one another, [A mask?] John mouthed to Matty. She shrugged her shoulders in reply, then bent down to comfort Christine, bringing her up to sit on a chair. "The men can bring your things to your room, if that's OK with you?"

Christine nodded, making no attempt to dry her tears.

"Oh! Almost forgot!" said John, handing Christine the wallet, "we found this off in the woods, about 4 rods from the road."

Christine didn't believe she'd had any more tears to shed, but began sobbing again in earnest when she saw the all too familiar wallet of Erik's and added it to the broken pieces of his mask that she clutched tightly to her heart.

"Thank you," she managed to choke out.

Matty reached for Christine, "Let's get you some dry clothes to put on," and with an arm around her, led Christine to her room, right behind the men with the trunks.

The men were back in the house and drinking coffee, after stabling the horses. They looked up, questioningly as Matty returned to the kitchen. "She'll be alright. It was just the shock. She told me that Erik wears a porcelain mask that covers part of his face where he has a deformity, so as not to frighten people. I guess he's worn it all his life and even carries spares with him when he travels."

"So I'm guessing that maybe he hit his head on the tree and broke the mask?"

"Maybe he doesn't remember who he is?" offered Henry. "But why didn't he come back to the road?"

"Well, we found that stuff about twelve feet from the road and well downhill from it. Maybe he didn't remember that there even was a road?"

"Maybe something else caught his eye in the other direction?" suggested Matty.

"But Jonas' is the nearest place, and that's over a mile away, down near the river," John was thinking out loud.

"Jonas and Sam have traps that they set," piped up their sixteen-year-old son, William, who had just come in from the barn. "Maybe they were heading home from checking their traps, and maybe Erik saw the light of their lantern and followed them home?"

They looked at each other in sudden awareness. "And that's why the wallet was found so far from the road! William, you're a genius!" John got to his feet and looked out the window before pacing the room, "But there isn't enough daylight left to go searching now. Matty? Can you pack up some provisions that we can take back with us, to pay for the use of his horses? Amos loaned us horses to bring the luggage here. We can go back there and stay overnight. That way we'll be closer to the site of the accident and be able to get an earlier start in the morning."

She nodded and began packing up some canned goods and cut part of a side of bacon to add to the provisions when Christine appeared in the kitchen.

"Here," she said, her eyes still filled with tears and holding out a handful of paper money. "Take whatever you need. It was in his wallet, in case we might need something on the way home." She held out a porcelain mask, "And take this. He'll need it." She slipped the mask into a velvet bag and handed it to John with the money. "Find him?" she pleaded before returning to the bedroom in tears.

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	13. Chapter 13

Who Am I? Chapter 13

Gustave

Gustave had stayed with the search party for two days until they bogged down to help the regular road crew clear some large trees out of the roadway.

"I'm really sorry, Sir, but I must continue on. I can't get waylaid, even for a good cause," he told Major Jenkins, the army officer in charge of the group.

"I understand, Lieutenant Destler," the Major placed a hand on Gustave's shoulder. "I think any one of us would do the same in your position. You're a good man; you showed me that in France."

"Umm… It's Mister Destler now, Sir, and thank you, Sir. It was an honor serving with you."

"Yes, Mister it is…but I wonder, might I suggest you take along one of the men as a companion? For safety's sake?"

Gustave shook his head, sadly, "I'm afraid not, Sir. Thank you for the kind offer, but I can make better time on my own."

"Yes, I'm sure you can. You have a magnificent horse there!"

"Well, you see, he's my father's personal horse, Sir, and I think he knows that we're looking for Father and that spurs him on with greater determination."

"A thinking horse! Let me know when he sires and I will be sure to purchase one of his offspring!"

"I will do that, Sir," and he touched the top of his hat in farewell and sped off away from the search party.

According to Major Jenkins, there was an inn about 20 miles ahead. It was still mid-morning. Perhaps they could make it there by nightfall. He allowed Gambler to take the lead and go at his own pace, unwilling to urge him into an accidental fall. The snow here was over four feet deep making the roadway treacherous, as it was impossible to see even the shadows of trees that had fallen before being covered with the heavy snow. But Gambler was good at picking his way through this snowy maze and just after dark they could dimly see what appeared to be the lights of an inn in the distance. Gambler must have sensed it because he quickened his pace.

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	14. Chapter 14

Who Am I? Ch 14

Erik

_Her name was Christine. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And when she sang, her voice was enough to put even the heavenly angels to shame. But every time he reached out for her, she vanished, only to reappear somewhere else. He needed to find a way to hold her in one place. To pin her down. "Sing!" she said. "Sing for me, mon ange!" He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He held her close. He could smell her hair, feel her heartbeat, and tried again to sing for her, but nothing happened as she began to fade once more. "No!" He tried harder, but could only grunt. Tears came to his eyes as she faded away._ He woke clutching nothing but the chilly night air, his eyes filled with tears. _Christine! Her name was Christine! _he thought. _But who was she? Did she even exist? Nobody that beautiful could exist in this world, could they? He had to find her!_

Morning came with the prospect of more of Hannah's tea. He had had enough of tea and sleep. He needed to find some answers.

He was standing near the window when Hannah entered the bedroom with a tray with a small teapot, a cup, and a bowl of oatmeal laced with the sweet, caramelly taste of fenugreek. "Good Morning! Nice to see you looking so well this morning! Come sit down. I have some of my special oatmeal for you this morning. It has raisins and cinnamon, some chopped up black walnuts and I added some fenugreek to it to give you a little more energy."

He all but glowered at her, distrusting what she had been feeding him. "And tea to put me back to sleep?" he asked with a haughty air.

"You need to sleep to allow your body to heal, Erik," she soothed.

"I have had enough sleep! It is time for action. And I need to find some answers."

"Answers?" she queried, "To what? We've answered all the questions we can until we can get through the snow to…"

"To what?" he fairly growled. "Where did I come here from? What caused these injuries? Who is Christine?"

"Who? We don't know anyone named Christine, Erik. Where did you get that name from?" She patted the side of the bed, "Come sit down, Erik. You're getting yourself all worked up, probably over another one of your nightmares." He looked at her and his expression softened. He hesitated. "Come. Sit," she said softly. "We don't know any more than you do, Erik, but Amos has been out with some of the neighbors, tracking the direction from which you seem to have come. But it's slow going through the woods because the snow is very deep. They have to use snowshoes. Horses are of no use because there are tree limbs down all over the place from the storm and the heavy snow. And they don't remember which trap line they had been checking when they found you – or heard you – and which direction you were coming from. It's a big forest and it's all very deep in snow. So they're checking each trap line and going beyond it to see if they can discover anything out of the ordinary."

Erik sat down and put his head in his hands and winced when his hand hit the sore spot on his forehead. "I'm sorry. I just… I wish I could remember. I wish I knew…"

"Don't fret, Erik. It will all come back in good time. Just let it heal. It takes time to heal. Here, have some oatmeal." She handed him the bowl and spoon. "I'll leave the pot of tea on the table and you can decide if and when you want to drink it. Deal?" He scowled at the oatmeal as if it were the source of his problems. "Deal?" she asked again, softly.

He looked up at her and his expression softened. "Deal," he nodded, and tasted the oatmeal before grinning sheepishly. "You're right. This is pretty good – for oatmeal."

An hour later when she returned for the bowl, Erik was asleep, the empty teapot on the table with the empty cup.

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	15. Chapter 15

Who Am I? Ch. 15

The dogs sounded the alarm.

"Rider coming up the road!" announced William running in from the barn.

John and Matty looked at each other, "A rider? In all this snow?"

Henry threw on his coat and hat and ran out to take care of the visitor's horse before a tall man stomped into the inn. He grabbed the broom standing next to the door and went back out onto the stoop to brush off some of the snow that was caked onto his boots and pants. Coming back inside, he greeted the innkeeper, offering his hand, "Hello! Hope you've got an empty room for the night!" he said with a grin, beating snow off of his coat with his hat before hanging them up on one of the hooks next to the door.

John took the proffered hand and shook it, "In this weather? Are you kidding me? You're the first traveler we've had in a week!"

"Well, I think I've been in the saddle for at least that long! Mind if I sit near the fire to get some of the ice out of my bones? And can someone give my horse a good rubdown? I have oats in one of the saddlebags, but we've been tromping around in this snow since New York," said the visitor, pulling off his snow-crusted boots.

Matty picked up his boots and carried them from the room. "I'll have my son brush these off and put them out in the back hall so the snow doesn't melt into the leather."

"We got some good straw bedding should warm your horse up in no time. Henry's seeing to him. Have they opened the roads now?"

Matty returned shortly, carrying a tankard of ale and a heaping bowl of stew, along with a loaf of bread and some fresh-churned butter and set it on a table near him. "You look starved!"

"Not yet," the visitor said, "but they are on their way," as he tore into the food that had been set before him, "about twenty miles south. Should be here in four or five days." He took a large gulp from the tankard. "Week, maybe. Mm-mm! Sure hits the spot! You're a fine cook, Ma'am! Sorry about my manners, but it's been a week since…"

"Don't you worry about that," Matty interrupted. "Nothing wrong with a man who appreciates his food!" winking at her husband.

"My name is Matty, and this is John, my husband."

"Pleased to meet you!" he said between mouthfuls, "My name is …."

Just then a clatter of milk pails and a screech came from the kitchen and a flurry of wool and homespun flew past them and attached itself around the visitor's neck. "GUSTAVE!" she shrieked.

Gustave got up in a whirl, upsetting the table and its contents, "Mother! I'd know that scream anywhere!" he cried, embracing her and whirling her around. He held her up off the floor, unwilling to relax his grip lest she fade away into some kind of illusion.

"Put me down, foolish child!" she finally said, laughing with tears in her eyes. "Where did you come from? How did you get here?"

"Coney Island, of course! Gambler brought me," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

"Gambler! But he…" began Christine.

"I know, but he did! Where's Father?" he asked glancing around the room.

"And what have you got on?" he asked, suddenly taking in her rough clothing.

"I've been earning my keep with these fine people, or at least attempting to. I'm afraid our little greeting will cost me a week's wages!"

"Fiddlesticks!" declared Matty, busily cleaning up the mess they had made. "It was worth it just to witness your reunion! And the dogs are due for a treat anyway."

"Where's Father?" asked Gustave, full of concern once the atmosphere in the room had quieted down some. "Mother?" Christine turned away from him and shook her head, trying to will her tears not to fall.

Matty stepped closer to Gustave and put her hand on his arm, "They haven't found him yet."

"Found him? Found him! What does that mean?" he roared.

"Gustave..." Christine cautioned.

John stepped over to the group, "Gustave, there was an accident. It would appear that your father was thrown from the buggy. It looks like he might have hit his head against a tree, pretty hard too, and just wandered away." Gustave was visibly having a hard time trying to take this all in.

"Mother?"

She slowly turned around, wiping her eyes on her apron. "They found Father's wallet, and some broken pieces of his mask, and," she let out a sob, "a blood-stained handkerchief," she let Gustave wrap his arms around her and sobbed, "but there was too much snow. They couldn't find him. Couldn't search."

"We're going back out again tomorrow," said John quietly, "if you'd like to come with us?"

Gustave set his jaw and frowned, "When do we leave?"

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	16. Chapter 16

Who Am I? Chapter 16

Four men on snowshoes were scouring the snowy woods, searching for traces of a trail that would lead them to … something. They didn't know what, but there must be something that would indicate where this stranger had come from. They scrambled over fallen trees and detoured around those that were too large or too difficult to cross. By noon they had only covered half a mile.

"Jonas," one of the snow-covered men said, "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to my family. We have a heifer that's due to calve soon, and I can't leave it all to my wife and daughter."

Jonas nodded, "Thank you for all your help. You're a good man to have been out here with me these last two days. Thank you. And good luck with your heifer!" They waved to each other as the man snow-shoed back in the direction from which they'd come. Jonas was in a little space where the snow had not accumulated quite as deeply and he stooped down, sitting back on his heels. "It's like looking for an oat straw in a haystack," he murmured dejectedly. "We need a sign, anything, to let us know even the general direction…" He looked around at the unrelenting white covering every trace of life around him. He stopped and swept his eyes across the snow again. No! Could it be that easy? "Jim!" he hollered, "Over here!" The nearest of the men shushed over to where Jonas was stooping. "Get down here," directed Jonas. "Look around. What do you see?"

Jim joined Jonas in squatting in the little clearing and looked around. "Snow," he answered.

"No, of course snow!" said Jonas in frustrated excitement. "Look across the snow, to the distance, and let your eyes sweep across…"

Jim's eyes suddenly lit up, "Yeah! I see it! Like a pathway, sunken in the snow! Is that what you mean?"

"Yes! It's what's left of the depression we made when we dragged him home on our travois! Howard! Over here!" he shouted excitedly. They'd been carrying stakes with flags on them to mark any trail signs they might find, and now they began placing them at intervals along what they were hoping was an authentic clue. But just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The men had looked around in bewilderment before Jonas suddenly declared, "The sun! It was the angle of the sun that allowed us to see that depression."

"So what are we gonna do now? Wait until tomorrow to look further?" asked the third member of the group through his heavy snow-studded beard.

"Maybe we can just keep going in that direction?" suggested Jim, when they all turned at the distant sound of a horse whinnying.

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	17. Chapter 17

Who Am I? Ch 17

Erik

_Horses. Beautiful horses. Dashing through deep snow. Tossing their heads and calling to one another. One especially, at least a hand taller than the others, nostrils flaring, charging, then throwing his head and bucking before running again. He was the boss and he knew it. C'est magnifique. "Gambler", he seemed to say." I am here for you!" Strange. I didn't know horses could talk? He just tossed his head before running away, then came charging back and skidded to a halt in front of me, throwing up a spray of snow, obliterating the scene. _Erik jerked upright, fully expecting to find snow strewn across the bed, but winced at the pain in his side. He looked around the room, a bit disoriented by the dream. He got up, pulled on one of Jonas' flannel shirts he'd been using, then found his trousers and pulled them on before venturing out of the bedroom that had been his home for well over a week now. His eyes were drawn to a piano in the outer room and he gravitated toward it.

"Erik! How nice to see you up!" came the voice of Hannah. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good," he said, eyes on the piano. "Doesn't anyone play?" he asked, gesturing toward it.

"We bought it for our oldest daughter, Annetta, when she was 16. She loved to play it," Hannah finished sadly.

"What happened to her?" asked Erik with concern.

"She passed away on her 21st birthday. The doctor said it was tuberculosis of the bowels. She was such a beautiful child. That's her picture in the center on top of the piano."

He looked up to see a beautiful young woman with long braids that were wound into coils around her ears.

"She's lovely." He touched a few of the keys on the piano, then sounded a cord, then another.

"You play! I have so missed the sound of that piano. Jonas has threatened to sell it, but I won't let him. I told him that some day it would help to heal someone else's sorrow."

He sat down and started to play, first with only his left hand, then he took his arm out of the sling and used both hands. The piano erupted in music, unearthly and haunting, now powerful, now soft and soothing.

Hannah didn't realize that she had sat down, entranced by the music. Samuel came in from the workshop, wearing a leather mask over part of his face, and stood with his hand on the chair behind his mother.

"Hannah!" called Jonas from the kitchen, "I think we have…" He stopped when he saw Hannah's finger across her lips and heard the sounds coming from the piano around the corner from the doorway. "What…?"

The music continued until Erik hit some sour notes, groaned and grasped his right shoulder. Hannah shook herself from the daze she had been in and rushed to help him get his arm back into the sling. "That was so beautiful!"

Jonas and Samuel applauded. "Wonderful!" Jonas added.

"Can you teach me how to play like that?" urged Samuel.

"Well, I don't know…" Erik began, slightly confused.

"Not now, Samuel. Can't you see he's in pain? Go stoke the fire and get some water boiling."

"I think we found a trail," announced Jonas. All eyes turned to him. "Out past the third trap line we set. Funny thing, we all thought we heard a horse out there, but then it went away. Musta been the wind."

"That's wonderful news! We'll have you back home in no time!" cheered Hannah, preparing some tea in the kitchen.

Erik's head had come up at the mention of the horse. "I had a dream about a horse last night. A big stallion, running through snow drifts. Huh! He said his name was Gambler or Gustave or something like that."

"He said?" asked Jonas. "The horse spoke to you?"

"Yeah. Must be all this tea your wife has been plying me with?" he said with a wink.

"Not surprised atall," added Jonas with a wink of his own.

"Oh, go on both of you," as she swatted each of them on the arm.

"OW!" said Erik, "I'm injured!"

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I forgot…" she effused, handing him a cup of tea.

"Just teasing, Ma'am" he chuckled, taking the tea from her. "What do we have this time?"

"This time it is Peppermint, Rhus tox, and Fenugreek."

"No St. Johnswort?"

"That's waiting out in the kitchen for whenever you're ready for it," she answered smugly. "Your decision."

He glanced up from his cup thoughtfully and looked at her, then Jonas, "Sir, you do know that you have a treasure here. A woman who can cook is rare enough, but one who can heal the body, the mind, and perhaps even the soul is to be treasured."

Hannah blushed into her apron skirt. "Why, thank you, Erik."

Jonas beamed proudly at her, "That's why I married her."

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	18. Chapter 18

Who Am I? Ch 18

John, Henry, Amos and Gustave were riding toward the site of the accident.

"You sure you can control that animal today, Son?" asked John with concern.

"I don't know what got into him yesterday," replied the newcomer to the group. "He's been fine all the way up here, but he does get skittish now and then."

"You call that skittish?" asked Henry, "He all but threw you!"

"Must have been something that startled him," Gustave replied. "He's OK today."

When they neared the site of the accident, Gambler again began twitching his ears, whinnying and prancing. "What is it, boy?" Gambler grew more and more restless until he pulled the reins right out of Gustave's hands and plunged down the steep hillside. From there he headed straight for the tree with the blaze indicating the location of the wallet. Only he didn't stop there. Gustave finally was able to regain the reins but it did no good as Gambler was determined to push forward on his own. The other men had had to dismount and don their snowshoes to negotiate that hill and were left far behind Gustave and Gambler. Gambler sometimes ran, sometimes bucked, but continued in the same general direction. Soon they discovered some men on snowshoes walking in the woods. They appeared to be searching for something.

Gustave pulled Gambler up, snorting with impatience. "Can you help me?" Gustave queried. "I'm looking for a man…" Just then Gambler bucked and Gustave's hat flew off into the snow.

Jonas looked closer and recognized the young man's features as being very similar to the man who had been staying in his home. He bent down to pick up the hat.

"Might you be his son?" asked Jonas "And that wouldn't be Gambler, would it?"

Gustave was stunned. "Yes, Sir! But how…?"

"The house is about a mile that way", he said, gesturing behind him with Gustave's hat. He turned to hand the hat up to him.

Gustave only had time to say, "Thank you," before Gambler took off in the direction the man had indicated, Jonas still holding Gustave's hat. After less than half a mile, Gambler had had enough of Gustave trying to control him and bucked him off into the snow before charging ahead full speed. Fortunately, he also bucked off the snowshoes and Gustave was able to bull his way through the snow to get them and strap them on before continuing on his way.

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Erik found playing the piano to be very soothing and relaxing, taking his mind off of the dreams that had been tormenting him. Jonas and Hannah had told him that he could play as often and for as long as he wished, so long as he didn't cause himself any further injury. He discovered that he could play many pieces from memory, even though he couldn't remember what they were called.

And Samuel was a quick study. There wasn't much work to do in the harness shop, so Jonas had allowed Samuel to learn how to play the piano. Samuel and Erik were in the middle of the third movement of a Brahms' lullaby when they heard the loud whinnying of a horse. They looked out the windows but could see nothing, then heard pounding on the front porch. Opening the door, Erik came face to face with … Gambler!

"Gambler? What are you doing here?!" Gambler gave Erik a gentle nudge and bowed his head for an ear scratch.

"Hey! You stupid horse!" yelled somebody trying to run in snowshoes, apparently chasing the horse. "Get back here!" He changed his focus to Erik and said, "Sorry, Sir, he got away from me and… Father?!"

Erik was puzzled at first before a window of his memory seemed to pop open… "Gustave?" and he waded out into the deep snow to embrace Gustave who had removed his snowshoes in order to climb onto the porch, forgetting that he had not as yet reached it. "Gustave! My son!"

"Father!" Erik groaned as Gustave embraced him. "Father? You're hurt?"

"Not anymore!"

By now Hannah and Samuel were both at the front door, petting Gambler and laughing at the two men foundering around in the snow. "Get inside, you two fools!" Hannah shouted. "Samuel, take the horse to the barn and see that he's fed and well bedded."

They went inside and Hannah began removing Erik's boots and trousers. She brought out a blanket for him to wrap in before turning her attention to Gustave. Gustave had removed his boots and set them near the door before brushing off his coat and pants. She handed him another blanket and headed for the kitchen.

Soon Jonas entered and caught Gustave's attention, showing him that he was hanging his thrown hat up on one of the hooks near the door next to Gustave's coat. He broomed off his pants and boots before joining the others. "Glad to see you made here in one piece, Son. Seems that horse of yours has a mind of its own," he added with a smirk.

"Yeah. Well…"

Erik looked at Gustave with a fatherly look of consternation. "That's because Gambler isn't his horse and usually won't allow anyone but me to ride him. I'm actually surprised you made it here at all." Erik gave Gustave a curious look, waiting for an explanation.

"I just told him that we had to go find Father, and that your life might depend on it," explained Gustave. "He was fine until we got to the site of the accident and I had all I could do to hang on to him for as long as I did. He finally threw me about half a mile back in the woods." He looked over his father again, just now noticing the small bandage on his forehead. "So, how long have you been here Father? Why didn't you try to come back? Or to reach Mother?"

"Mother? Christine?" He thought for a moment as memories slowly found their way back into his awareness, "My Christine! Where is she? Is she alright?" as he jumped to his feet.

"Mother is fine, but she is terribly worried about you. She said you vanished from the accident. What happened?"

"I was thrown out of the buggy…" He sat back down before continuing, "I woke up in the woods in a snowstorm, couldn't see a thing… except a light moving in the distance. Although at the time, I didn't know it was moving. I guess I fell again and…"

"We heard a yell," added Jonas. "We were checking one of our trap lines when it started to snow bad, so we headed home. Then we heard you and went back. You must have been following us. We were about a mile from home when we found you."

"That accident was up on the turnpike," said Gustave, "so you had followed them for three quarters of a mile in a blinding snowstorm?"

"In over two feet of snow," added Jonas.

"With a concussion, a broken rib and a broken collar bone," added Hannah re- entering the room with steaming mugs of spiced cider.

They all looked at Erik with renewed respect, but none moreso than Gustave.

"I had no choice," he said defensively.

Gustave suddenly realized that his father wasn't wearing his mask, but it didn't seem to bother anyone. He began to wonder about that when Samuel entered the room, wearing a home-made leather mask. He could see his father's hand in it and smiled. "Oh! By the way," Gustave said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "I brought something for you," and handed his father the velvet bag. "Not sure you need or want it here," he added, looking at Samuel.

Erik sighed as he pulled out the mask, pensively turning it over in his hands. "I've been without it for almost two weeks…" He slipped it on and was transformed into a gentleman, the person Gustave knew best. It was amazing what a difference the mask made. "You see, Samuel? The mask can make you more acceptable in society. But it will also help _you_ to understand that you are not a freak," he added, looking hard at Samuel.

"Excuse me," Hannah said quietly and went into the kitchen.

"I'll just go and see if she needs some help," added her husband.

Gustave started to get up to follow, saying, "Is there something I can…?"

But Erik held out his hand and shook his head. "This is a discussion they have to have by themselves," he said quietly. They exchanged looks before Gustave sighed and turned his attention to Samuel.

"So tell me, Samuel," Gustave said, "is there another way to get to the turnpike? We can't go back the way I came. That hill is too steep for even Gambler to climb."

"Sure! Just follow the river to where the pike crosses it."

"Is there a bridge there?" pointedly asked Erik.

"Yeah. It goes right over … oh. You need to get up to the road. Well, the banks aren't too steep there. Maybe you could get up there?"

"It might work for me, but how can we get _you_ up there?" he asked looking at his father. "You can't ride a horse."

"Of course I can!"

"Absolutely not! I won't hear of it!" Hannah came in from the kitchen, still drying her eyes, fairly livid. "I have not spent the past nearly two weeks trying to nurse you back to health to have you gallivanting off, undoing all the healing that has taken place so far!" Erik opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off, "Don't you even start with me! You are not getting up on a horse – ANY horse! The only way you can leave here is by … by… dogsled!"

Gustave was trying his hardest not to giggle and getting threatening looks from his father. If Hannah had any idea to whom she was speaking – and with that tone of voice – she would be mortified. Absolutely mortified!

"Dogsled?" queried Erik, "Does anyone in this area have a dogsled?"

"You're not serious, Father?"

"If it's the only way I can get back to Mother, then I will chance it. If I can ride a camel for miles in the desert, I guess I can ride a dogsled for miles in the snow."

He turned to Hannah. "Now, tell me, where can we find a dogsled?"

oo00O00oo


	19. Chapter 19

Who Am I? Ch 19

Erik looked around the room. Hannah was sitting with her mouth hanging open. Gustave was looking at him like he had lost his mind. Samuel was giggling softly. Jonas slapped his knee before letting out a roar, "Hah! Now that's determination!" And joined his son in the laughter. Soon Gustave was also giggling.

"Dogsled my eye!" said Hannah before beginning to giggle herself.

Erik's face clouded over. Gustave knew that look. "Father, maybe there's another way?" he posited before breaking out in giggles once again. "I'm sorry, but I'm just trying to picture you, wrapped in furs, riding behind a team of dogs, shouting, 'Mush!'"

That set off another wave of laughter and even Erik finally succumbed to his son's description of the ludicrous idea and began chuckling. "OK. Maybe I was wrong. But what about a sled or sleigh?"

"Well, we do have to pack down the snow first," started Jonas, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. "The stone boat is ready to go. Was going to start that this afternoon, once the sun had softened the snow some."

"Stone boat?" queried Erik and Gustave together.

"It's like a buckboard with no wheels or springs, just skids, and we load it up with rocks to make it heavy," described Samuel.

"The weight packs down the snow so horses can run on it without sinking in," added Jonas. "We haven't needed to use them for several winters now, but it's all set to go, just after dinner."

"And then we can use the sleigh!" added Samuel excitedly. He turned to his father, "Where'd we put the bells?"

"In the loft over the workshop," replied Jonas. "I'll get them and get the sleigh ready. You go help Mother in the kitchen."

"Bells?" asked Gustave.

Erik cleared his throat. "A sleigh going through snow is almost silent," he explained, with a slight gasp for breath. "The bells help other travelers" (another gasp) "to know that a vehicle" (and another) "is approaching on the road", he added with a detached frown and a cough. He turned his head away and got up. "Excuse me …" and headed for the bedroom where Gustave heard more coughing. He followed his father, concerned.

Erik turned, "Get out!"

"Father, I…"

"Get out!" and began coughing again.

Gustave found Hannah in the kitchen and followed her back and soon she was in the bedroom fussing over Erik. Gustave watched from the door while Hannah got him into bed. She checked the wrappings around his ribs that Gustave hadn't seen before because they were covered by a flannel shirt.

"Make yourself useful and go get some water boiling, would you?"

Gustave suddenly realized she was addressing him and went to the kitchen. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Gonna ride a horse, are you? Your ribs can't even tolerate a hug. You stay here and I'll get some tea ready."

"But..."

"No Buts!"

oo00O00oo

Hannah emerged from the bedroom with the empty teapot and cup. "He's asleep," she told Gustave who was waiting just outside the door. He didn't move, but kept staring at her, waiting for more of an answer. She sighed. "He has at least one broken rib. All this sudden activity seems to have caused it to shift and slightly punctured his lung. If he stays quiet and I can get him to swallow more of this tea, he'll recover. Maybe a few days," she added.

Gustave sat down. Hard. Remembering the hugs of joy he had given his father, remembering the laughter. He put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's not your fault, Gustave," she soothed. "He was overjoyed to see you! He didn't want anything to interrupt that." She paused a moment before adding, "He was hurt worse than he would admit. I could tell by the way he reacted to the medications I gave him."

"He's stubborn," he added.

She nodded. "Maybe while the boys are out with the stone boat, you could ride up to the inn and let your mother know that he's here and on the mend?" She put her hand on Gustave's knee, "I'm sure she's terribly worried about both of you by now."

He looked at her for a moment. "You're a very wise woman. Mother would really like you. If you can fix me a plate, I'll eat now and then leave right away."

oo00O00oo


	20. Chapter 20

Who Am I? Chapter 20

"Come on now, listen to reason, will you?" Gustave pleaded in exasperation. "We have to go and see Mother first. THEN we can go back to Father, OK?" He was standing in the road, covered in snow and was knocking the snow off of his hat.

Gambler turned around to look at him and came trotting over and ducked his head for an ear scratch, then tossed his head and waited.

"Thank you kindly," said Gustave. He dug a handful of oats out of one of the saddle bags and gave it to the horse, then got back into the saddle and led Gambler farther along the snowy road toward the inn.

oo00O00oo

"Gustave! What on earth?" exclaimed Christine when he arrived at the inn. He was covered in snow. Even his hat had snow inside it. "What happened?"

Gustave stormed into the inn, "I don't want to talk about it; nothing happened."

"But…"

"Nothing!"

Matty entered the greatroom to see what the commotion was about and began fussing over Gustave. "Never mind!" he roared. She looked up at him in shock. He saw the shock in her face and his expression melted, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be cross with you, with either of you. But that horse! He threw me three times on the way back here. Three times!"

Christine began to chuckle. "Of course he did. He always has!"

He got out of his snowy coat and boots and sat near the fire, unsure of how to tell his mother what he had discovered.

"Well? Did you find Father?" she asked with a forced smile, "Where is he?"

"Mother," he said taking her hands in his and pulling her down to sit next to him, "he's at the home of a harness maker. They've been taking care of him…."

"Taking care of him?" she asked with alarm in her voice. "What's wrong?" she asked becoming more and more concerned.

"He was injured in the accident, hit his head and couldn't remember who or where he was," he started.

"Oh no!" she sobbed, then looked up at her son. "Take me to him."

"Mother, it's too dangerous…"

"Do you think I care about that? Take me to him! Now!"

"Mother we have only just got back here. Could we please rest? Maybe for an hour?"

"How far away is he?"

"Well, the route we had to take was about six miles. The roads are well packed, so you'd be able to take a buggy or wagon…"

"I don't need a buggy or a wagon! All I need is a horse! Matty? Matty! Where are you?"

"Right here, Ma'am," she said coming in from the kitchen. "I heard you, but I don't advise you to try it…"

"I'm sorry, Matty, but I am not asking for advice. Do you have a horse I could rent for a few days? I need to get to…"

"The harness maker's house," Gustave supplied.

"The harness maker's house. It's about five miles from here…"

"Six," said Gustave.

"Six miles. And I'll be staying there a few days as well before we return."

"I could have one of the boys hitch up the wagon for you. That way you'd be able to bring your husband back here?"

"Gustave?"

"He can't be moved right now." He couldn't look at his mother when she looked so forlorn at what he'd just said.

"I'll go pack a few things…"

"William!" called Matty, "Saddle up Joey for Mrs. Destler."

oo00O00oo


	21. Chapter 21

Who Am I? Ch 21

_Such heavenly music! I can't help but cry at its beauty, its distress, its longing. The music makes me want to embrace it to put an end to its terrible sadness. I reach out… and what's this? I feel raindrops on my face. But how can it be raining inside? Am I inside? No, it's the music; the music is crying. But how can that be? Now it's raining inside my mouth and I choke on it. And there's a knife that keeps moving around in my side. But the music continues, and the rain begins again… Christine… Christine… _Christine?

Hannah explains Erik's injuries to Christine before taking her into Erik's bedroom, where he is sleeping. Christine wipes his brow where beads of perspiration are beginning to form. She begins to softly sing a lullaby to him, but he seemes so helpless, so vulnerable. She can't prevent the tears from falling. She takes his hand when he reaches for her and tries to embrace her. Is he crying? She gently wipes away his tears.

Hannah comes in with some of his tea.

Christine looks from the tea to Erik with concern. "He's asleep. Surely you're not going to feed that to him while he's sleeping?"

"The tea has one herb to help him sleep and another ingredient to stop the bleeding, so I don't want to wake him if I don't have to. It's not as bad as you might think," explains Hannah patiently. "The place in our throat where we swallow food is behind where we breathe. So it's possible to carefully drip fluids into the throat of an unconscious person without injuring them. But you have to be very careful about it."

Christine doesn't seem entirely convinced, but moves out of her way. Hannah trickles a few spoonfuls of the medicine into Erik's mouth. Some runs down the side of his face, but most goes down his throat. He swallows, coughs lightly, then visibly winces and groans. He opens his eyes, disoriented.

"Dreaming?" He reaches vaguely toward Christine and she takes his hand with one of hers and cups his cheek with the other.

"No, you're not dreaming, _mon ange_, I'm here," and she kisses him gently.

He opens his eyes wider, "Christine…" and moves as if to get up, but she presses him back to the bed, and kisses him again.

He leans up slightly and captures her lips in a kiss before relaxing back onto the bed. "You're here. But how…?"

"When you wake up. Right now you need to sleep, _mon ange, _sleep…" and she gently closes his eyes with her hand. I will be here. I won't leave you."

"I love you, _mon ange,_" he says with a sleepy smile.

"I love you too."

oo00O00oo

A/N: Many huge thanks to DonJuana19 for all the help proofreading this and helping me to get ot posted! This is my first FF on this site. And thanks for all the encouragement!


	22. Chapter 22

Who Am I? Chapter 22

OK, dear readers. You've read the story, maybe sent in some reviews – for which I truly thank you – but we aren't finished yet.

I unintentionally left a few loose ends, for one of which I also unintentionally wrote the solution into the story.

The question is: How did Gambler find Erik?

There are no prizes for the correct answer, just a bit of fun.

And please post your answer in a PM and not on the open forum.


End file.
